Public Secrets Part 120

"That's right."

"Delivery from Beds, Beds, Beds."

Emma released the entrance door, let out a war whoop.

"What?" Marianne demanded, sitting back far enough to frown at her work.

"Beds!" Emma shouted. "We've got beds."

"Don't joke about something like that, Emma. Not while I'm painting, or

I'll give you a wart."

"I'm not joking. They're on their way up."

Marianne paused, dripping brush in hand. "Real beds?"

"Mattresses, Marianne." Emma leaned a hand on the ladder. "Box

springs."

"Jesus." Marianne shut her eyes then gave a dramatic shudder. "I think

I had an o.r.g.a.s.m."

At the elevator's ding, Emma was across the room like a shot. When the

doors opened, all she could see was a queen-sized mattress covered in

plastic. "Where do you want it?" was the m.u.f.fled question.

"Oh. You can take that one right up those stairs in the far corner."

The man with "Buddy" st.i.tched across his cap rolled his eyes, hefted the

mattress over his head, and started for the stairs. "We could only fit

one at a time in the elevator. My partner's waiting downstairs."

"Oh, right." She pushed the release b.u.t.ton again. "Real beds," she said

as Marianne joined her.

"Please, not while we have company. d.a.m.n, there's the phone. I'll get

it."

The elevator dinged. Emma directed the second man-Riko according to his

cap-then smiled at Buddy as he went out to get box springs. When the

elevator opened, she grinned at the box springs that filled the car.

"One goes up, one goes down. Want a cold drink?"

Brian eased his way from behind the springs. "Yeah."

"Dad!"

"Mr. McAvoy," Marianne shouted over the radio. She stopped in

midstream, wiped her painly hands on her overalls. "Hi."

"You want to move?" Buddy complained, then maneuvered the box springs

toward the stairs.

"Dad," Emma managed again. "We.didn't know you were here."

"Obviously. Christ, Emma, anyone could ride up in that elevator.

Do you always leave the entrance unlatched?"

"They're delivering. Beds." She gestured as Riko struggled in with his

load. She drummed up a smile and kissed her father. "I thought you

were in London."

"I was. I decided it was time I got a look at where my daughter was

living." He stepped farther into the room to take a long, frowning

study. Drop cloths covered most of the floor. The packing crate from

the stove served as both a table and a stool and was now covered with

old newspapers, a lamp, a half-filled gla.s.s, and a paint can. The radio

sat on a windowsill, blasting away as Casey Kasem ran down the top

forty. The stepladder, the card table, and a single folding chair

composed the rest of the furniture.

"Jesus," was all Brian could think of to say.

"We're a construction zone," Emma told him with forced cheerfulness. "It